Part 5 (1/2)
Against his home's invasion this man held A red-coat regiment for seventeen days, Which was a spark to help start freedom's blaze And, therefore, Order Two: the weeds all quelled, Stand sentries till a statue takes your place And throngs shout, ”Bravo, Brown!” as 'tis unveiled!
EVACUATION DAY
What is it that today we celebrate With school recital, banquet and parade Of our achievements, pageanting each trade?
The ousting of the English--train and trait-- And posting, then, sharp-eyed, eternal hate To watch with Josuah's son above his head, That night come not to help them re-invade, However wide, we swing our ocean gate.
If not un-Englis.h.i.+ng America in mind And heart forever, vain the shrieks Of Freedom, eagling back to dawn's first streaks.
Oh, yea, the sun stands, and the night afar Holds Thrall, whose craft would swamp our n.o.blest peaks And leave but bubbling mud show where they are!
MANHATTA
Manhatta! Glory flings his arms round thee And proudly holds thee in his high caress.
What charms him, Mother, is thy n.o.bleness Of spirit. How his features beam to see Thy scorn dash in the bay the tyrant's tea, And hear thee call to Boston: ”Do no less; Else on sunlight, heart, soul--all we possess-- Will tyrant's next exact their deadly fee.”
In thee I glory. Can the world else boast A harbor, like thy heart, for every sail In flight from sea-toss, white with horror's gale, Or icebergs from despondence Polar coast?
Oh, fleets whose throngs, glad Freedom well may hail; For, landing, they became her staunchest host.
THE BURNING OF WAs.h.i.+NGTON CITY BY THE BRITISH
With what wild glee, the British set on fire Yon Capital, beholding in its flames, America, robed in her deeds and fames, In death throes at the stake of England's ire?
Though that was long ago and, then no pyre, The stake still stands; 'tis Anglo-Saxon claims, And Arnolds, bearing infamy's last names, Tilt schools to raise the stake flames high and higher.
Oh, sight to strike the coming ages dead, My country, were a cloud, thy mocking crown, And schools, ignited by Truth's lamps hurled down, To feed that cloud, like craters, inly red!
What! mock with cloud, Thy land and sea renown And Was.h.i.+ngton, G.o.d's Holy Spirit--known By the unerring World Light, that it shed?
THE LAND OF THE GREAT SPIRIT
Behold Ye Here the Happy Hunting Grounds, Where the Great Spirit, called Democracy, Sets every heart and soul forever free, An Equity, not royal grant, sets bounds.
No Phaeton attempting Phoebus rounds And burning up earth's gra.s.s and forestry, Is l.u.s.t for power; 'tis love for liberty, With bloom and birds for wheel-sparks, here resounds.
It is the land of Spirit. ”Ye who enter, Abandon first all fratricidal hate,”
Proclaims the edict, blazoned o'er each gate.
There see all tribes chase truth to joy--the center Convexing broad and broader, as more great Their numbers from where prejudice is mentor.